


Napoleon Solo Is A Liar

by fineandwittie



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Lies, M/M, Misunderstandings, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineandwittie/pseuds/fineandwittie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: I heard that the military had problems during WWII with underage volunteers. Even one guy who turned out to be twelve when he forged paperwork claiming to be 18, and was already serving aboard a battleship when his parents tracked him down. Somehow Gabby and Illya findout Napoleon's real age. Bonus if Napoleon is actually the youngest on the team.</p><p>Or</p><p>The one in which the CIA are even bigger douches than we thought and Illya is a bit horrified by the truth about his partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am MFU trash and the kinkmeme might be ruining my life, but I'll die happy. Happier if we get a sequel. Happiest is I ever get to meet Henry Cavill in person. Because, fuck, is that man pretty. Sorry. Can't help myself.
> 
> As always, Unbeta'd.

Napoleon Solo was a liar. He’d been lying to everyone he encountered since he could speak. Somehow, that fact never made it into his dossier, but it was no less true. So when Illya found out that Napoleon lied about his army service, he wasn’t terribly surprised. He was completely and utterly shocked, however, to find out why a seven year military career was impossible for Solo.

Napoleon Solo was two years old, when the war ended. This fact leaves Illya absolutely reeling. According to the dossier, Napoleon is older than Illya himself, by two years. In truth, the American is twelve years younger. 

Illya gaped at him. “Twelve years? You’re only twenty?! How is that even possible?”

Napoleon shrugged gracefully and took a sip of his scotch. “I was caught stealing art roughly three weeks after my thirteenth birthday. I always looked old for my age and the CIA agent who caught me thought I was in my twenties. I’d fabricated so many personal histories at that point that no one knew which one was real. And I’m only actually seven years into my sentence, if a year with UNCLE is going to be considered part of it.”

Illya knew his mouth was hanging open. He couldn’t help it. “They sentenced a thirteen year old to fifteen years in prison for stealing art?”

Napoleon rolled his eyes. “Again. They thought I was in my twenties at the time. And… I mean, the paintings I was caught with were estimated to have a value of three or four million dollars. So…”

“Twenty?”

This time Napoleon laughed. “Yes, Peril. What about this is so hard for you?”

Illya blinked and scowled. “Maybe fact that man I am sleeping with cannot legally buy alcohol in most of his home country?” Napoleon blinked and stared. “Did it ever occur to you that you might want to share such fact with me? That I might not wish to be involved with…with…boy.”

Nothing about Napoleon changed, but he gave the impression of flinching and his eyes went glacial. “My apologies. I had been under the impression that you were a better man than that. That you knew me better than that. Obviously I was wrong.”

He stood, knocked back the rest of the scotch with the ease of long practice and left the suite. Illya groaned and dropped into a chair.

Which was where Gaby found him half and hour later.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Illy turned his face toward her, but remained silent. She took one glance at his expression and went pale. “Oh my god. What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Napoleon hates me. But he is child.”

She blinked. When nothing else was forthcoming, she sat on the coffee table in front of him. “Explain? I’m sure Napoleon doesn’t hate you. Why do you care anyway?”

Illya snorted. “Because I love him.”

Shock swept over her face, before Gaby swallowed and nodded. “Alright, so you love Solo, but he hates you. Why is he a child?”

“Was born in 1943.”

Her mouth dropped open. “That’s…not possible! He served in the war! His file says so.”

Illya laughed, a hollow bitter sound. “His file is as much filthy liar as he is. Made it all up. Was born in 1943. Is only twenty years old.”

Gaby took a deep breath. “Okay…so that’s unexpected. But I don’t see why it’s a problem. You love him. Wait a year or two to tell him. Or don’t. Twenty is over the age of consent in pretty much every country, but certainly in the US, it is.”

Illya looked at her, his eyes dull. “Cowboy and I have been fucking for six months. He did not tell me his real age. He was nineteen, most of this time. That is…”

The shock is stronger this time, lasts longer. “You’ve been…That’s still over the age of consent. And yeah. okay. He should have told you, but…”

“I told him that I did not want to be involved with boy.”

She flinched. “Okay. That was not the best move on your part. So go find him. Apologize. Tell him how you feel.”

Illya stared at her. “Gaby…he is twelve years younger than me.”

She shrugged. “Who cares? You say you love him? Well, we’re spies. None of us have a very long life expectancy. I don’t see any of us growing old enough for such an age gap to be a problem. Go. Find him. Tell him.”

Illya breathed quietly and thought about this. Napoleon was only twenty, yet he was the CIA’s best operative. His term was punishment for his crimes. Which all meant that he would be getting the worst, most dangerous assignments if the CIA ever managed to get their hands on him again. Waverley thought they were all of an age and realized that they were the best team he had. Again, that translated to getting the worst, most dangerous assignments. Napoleon was unlikely to see his thirtieth birthday and Illya was unlikely to see forty. What did twelve years really matter given all of that?

He went to find Napoleon.


	2. Chapter 2

Surprisingly, Napoleon wasn’t difficult to find. He was sitting on the balcony of his own room. He didn’t move, didn’t even twitch, when Illya opened the door and stepped out. The Russian stood there, awkwardly hovering at the door, with his hands jammed into his pockets. He felt like the boy, waiting to be scolded, and Napoleon the man. 

“Well? What are you even doing, gracing a boy like me with your presence? Sir?” Napoleon’s voice was harsh, biting, meant to wound.

“I’m sorry.”

They were not words that Illya had ever said to Napoleon. They were words that he stopped saying to anyone halfway through his KGB training. They felt strange in his mouth. Napoleon jerked up and turned, eyebrow raised. 

Illya swallowed. “I am sorry. I…Was poor reaction. I did not mean it.”

Napoleon stared at him for a long moment, before his eyes went distant. “Alright, you apologized. Go tell Gaby that you’ve done your good deed.” 

He turned away and Illya stumbled forward, grabbing him by the arm. “Was not Gaby. I am sorry. Napoleon. Cowboy…please…I—“

“No. You don’t get to call me that anymore. Either of them.”

Illya made a wounded noise in the back of his throat. “Look. Was surprised. Shocked. You…Was no problem believing you were older than me. You seem it. Was shocked to find out I was wrong. Was horrified to find out CIA gave a child so long a prison term. I know what happens to pretty young boys in prison.” 

Napoleon frowned and finally met Illya’s imploring gaze. 

“Felt like monster. I am bigger than you and now older than you. Felt like…coercion. Reacted poorly. I am sorry.”

“My god. What?”

Illya’s face flushed a dull red. He looked away. “Forgive me?”

There was a long moment of silence. Then Napoleon sighed. “Yes, alright. But, Illya, you must know that this is in no way anything but my choice. I am…rather attached to you. What we have is…well, I assure you. I want it. Every bit as much, if not more, than you do.”

Illya’s gaze snapped back to the younger man. “Attached?”

Napoleon clenched his jaw and nodded tightly. Illya smiled. Napoleon stared at it. “Good. Am glad you are attached. I love you.”

Napoleon’s mouth dropped open. He gaped for a moment. “You…I…Oh Christ.”

Illya smiled and bent down to pull Napoleon up into his arms by the thighs. Napoleon laughed and kissed him. the Russian was about to place him down on the balcony railing when a thought occurred to him. He pulled back and stared up at Napoleon. “If you are only twenty, does this mean you will still grow taller?”


End file.
